Her expression tightens with regret. “I’m sorry.”
“Finley, it’s fine.” I force a laugh. “You don’t really know me well enough to trust me to sleep next to you, and I get that.”
“Thank you,” she says softly. “And I’m sorry if I’ve made things uncomfortable with you and your family.”
“God, no,” I say with a rough laugh. “My siblings are disappointed in me, and they don’t hide it.”
“Why would they be disappointed?”
Her question stirs something tight in my chest. I need air. “I’m going for a run. You get some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”
I close the door behind me as I hear her say, “Thanks.”
Chapter Fourteen
Alex
When I get downstairs, Mom’s standing at the kitchen sink, washing out the hot chocolate pot.
“Alex,” she says, in surprise, “I thought you’d gone to bed.”
I give her a sheepish look. “I mostly said that because I could tell Finley was exhausted, and she’s too nice to go to bed without me.”
She gives me a warm smile. “That was thoughtful.”
Her high opinion of me doesn’t sit right. “Thanks,” I thumb toward the back door. “I’m going to go for a run.”
She looks me up and down. “You’re going for a run this late?”
“I’m used to working out late.”
“Are you sure it’s safe?”
“Hollybrook is probably the safest place on earth.” But I know that’s not what she means. “I’ll be careful.”
She studies me for a beat then drops her gaze to the pot as she rinses it. “You have your phone, though, right?”
I pat my side pocket. “Right here.”
“Okay, I’ll see you in the morning,” she says. “I love you, Alex. Thank you for coming home. I’ve missed you.”
I pull her into a hug, holding her for several seconds as I smell her floral shampoo. It’s the same one she used when I was a kid. Nostalgia hits me full-force, and I wish for things to be like they were before everything changed. Before?—
No, I can’t go there.
“I love you too, Mom,” I say, softly, then kiss the top of her head. “Sorry I’ve been gone so long.”
She gives me a sad smile. “My prodigal son.”
The word tightens the guilt in my chest. “Yeah, I’m here.”
If she knew what I’d done, she wouldn’t look at me like this.
I take a step back, then leave through the kitchen door and into the cold air. My breath puffs white as I stretch in the driveway, then head toward the street in a slow jog. Once my muscles loosen, I pick up my pace and run the route I used as a teenager home from college. Some houses and yards have changed, but mostly it’s the same, and an ache for this place I shouldn’t feel settles under my ribs.
By the time I hit downtown, it’s close to eleven. Everything is closed, but the neon sign for the St. Nick Tavern still buzzes on the corner—the kind of place that’s outlasted half the town. I figure a drink might warm me up and kill some time before I curl up in the chair.
Except I didn’t bring my wallet.
